Ms Bright Side
by ImaginaryEngineer
Summary: Death is never easy to accept. But for Vi, she isn't taking any of it, especially when she believes that Caitlyn's still alive.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

A/N: Idea in my head. Explorations with dwindling emotions. Vi POV.

* * *

"You have to get some help, Vi."

 **Jayce.** **UGH.**

I hated the way he'd pass by here like clockwork every fucking morning. He always had one agenda in mind—and that was to get me to go back to the psych. I've had a few sessions with the guy and it all ended pretty _fucking_ bad so I told him to screw himself. I'm not going back to that nut job even if my life depended on it. Jayce's tried hundreds and hundreds of times to get me to reconsider and _it's already getting on my nerves_.

 _He won't fucking leave me alone._

Honestly, there wasn't anything that could make me feel better right now. I don't want that _psychoperv_ creeping into my psyche— _I don't even know what the fuck that means but he uses it a lot_ —and trying to figure out the cause of my pain and suffering—as if being born and raised in the streets doesn't cause any pain and suffering. _What a genius._

I've been up since 4am but I didn't feel like moving at all. Jayce's persistent knocking and whining was getting irritating and I had to do something about it. I tried to get up but I felt something at my side.

 _Shit. That didn't feel right._

 **Pain** , aside from this headache that I got. An _intense_ pain on my left side—something I've learned to deal with growing up in the streets. Bruises fade and wounds heal so I sucked it up. Popped some pills from my bedside, gripped my pillow, closed my eyes and waited for the meds to kick in.

"Vi!" Ignoring Jayce was hard, especially with what I'm dealing with right now and I don't have the patience. He'll fucking break my door down if he kept banging it like that.

"I'm coming!" It took a lot of strength but I managed to yelp without wincing. I don't want him to notice that I've been choosing my vices over his concerns.

"Are you hung over again? Vi, drinking isn't going to solve anything!"

 _Fucking piece of…_

Once the pain subsided, I bolted straight to the door and banged my fist on it. **Hard.** I regret doing that—the banging sound reverberated in my head making my head ache worse. _Fuck, I guess I was hung-over._

 _Hah._ I could literally _feel_ Jayce holding his head right now. _How does it feel, pretty boy?_ I thought to myself. I know I hit him with his ear on the door—smack dab in the middle of it. Serves him right for being an asshole. It's in the morning and no one deserves waking up to a racket like that.

"You're not the only one who's grieving Vi!" He paused. "I lost my best friend. Her parents lost a daughter. The whole city—" He paused again "—they lost a heroine."

 _A heroine._

Everyone calls her Piltover's heroine. Yup, that's fucking true, I ain't denying that. She's also what I'd like to call my _one true savior_ —she gets mad when I tell her that but it's really how I see her. _Calling me a diamond in the rough_. I don't get it how she still wanted me to help her protect the city with my long list of criminal activities but she did anyway.

It was the first time that anyone reached out to me like the sheriff did. Remembering her stretching out her hand to shake my own—calloused, full of scars and rough but she didn't care. I was her little project—be her ' _little bad guy to good guy_ ' pet—she made that pretty clear. There was a catch though, I should start behaving like a law-abiding citizen but I got to beat up the bad guys—which was the fun part. I found it sketchy at first but playing along with the sheriff's game, I started to enjoy what I used to believe would be a _fucking_ bummer of a job.

And it was because I never felt what it was like to be treated the way the sheriff treated me. Nobody looked at me like that—like a normal functioning human being. From everyone else, I was just another _'street scum'_ or a _'criminal_ '; then they'll throw me those horrified, judgmental looks.

But not the sheriff. _No way. No way she did that_.

She's given me more than a place to live, a stable job and the authority to beat up criminals.

She's given me hope.

Something sparked inside of me. The sheriff has never given up on me— _not even once_.

 _I shouldn't give up on her._

"Nobody's lost anyone!" I banged the door again. "She isn't fucking dead so don't fucking talk like she is!"

 **Silence.**

I heard him rest his head on my door. He's probably tired too. I know he's been working late at the lab. It's impossible to not see his huge head in his laboratory from where I drink at every night.

"I-It's been a month Vi." _Was he about to cry?_ First I thought that the pain killers got me hallucinating. Jayce sounded like a whimpering pup. "We have to accept that she's—" He breaks again, "—not with us anymore. I'm here to help you out."

"That wasn't her we buried out there, Jayce! _That's not her_ , _I swear_. She's alive," I answered. "She's alive and you know it! Cait's not going to get killed in a fire! It's not easy to kill her!"

"Same height, carrying _the sheriff's_ personal sniper rifle. No doubt it is her. Tha—"

"If you're here just to tell me what everyone else is telli—" I bit my lip. I was about to start an argument with him but Caitlyn's voice rang in my ear telling me to be _civil._ So I stopped myself before I could let go of words that I couldn't take back, "Just fuck off Jayce. Come back when you've got other shit to share."

He didn't answer. Instead, I heard him sigh followed by the sound of his footsteps. I took a peek from the blinds of my apartment—just making sure that he really left. I didn't want him hanging around me or worse— _tailing me_. Once he got in his car, I felt relieved.

As soon as I saw him leave the drive way, I took a quick shower and dressed up as fast as I could. I grabbed the pain killers from my side table and put them inside my hoodie's front pocket.

A month's passed since that incident. That's too much time wasted but _better now than never_. She's too fucking brilliant to die like that. I know she ain't dead. I don't care if they say that the body they buried was her—I fucking know it wasn't and it will never be her.

I made sure to lock my door as I closed it behind me. I left my gauntlets inside so that I don't attract any attention—I can function without them.

 _I know you're out there. And I'm not giving up on you that easily._

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A/N: If you need clarifications, just drop a message. Any form of criticism is welcome.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Usual Disclaimer: Riot owns everything

A/N: Vi & curse words. Yehp.

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Last time I've swiped my ID to get into the office was three days ago. Nothing feels different here. Everyone's still busy filing, reporting, issuing orders, getting calls—Cait did say justice never sleeps. I guess she's built this whole department on that. It didn't matter who was running the show, the force is still going to do its job regardless.

Been in and out of my office a few times this month. The new sheriff's been demanding—who the fuck _was he_ to boss me around? Anyway, I didn't pay any attention to him—he doesn't deserve any of it. I came to the station without warning and left without any noise. He's probably working up on my employment file to get me out of the force but he can't outright get rid of me… _yet_. He's gonna find a way but until then I gotta find out where the sheriff is.

It was pretty easy to get the case file. The old lady clerk on duty in the evidence room almost didn't give me another chance to look at the evidence. Well, I wouldn't too, especially if it's the only thing I've been looking at for the past month. But she said something about how she understood my situation. I don't know what the hell she was talking about but I nodded in response. Still gotta have _some_ respect for the old people.

I've been sitting here in the conference room for _hours—_ I only noticed that because I remember clocking in around eleven and the clock says it's two-thirty. _Fuck._ I've been reading all the reports for ages—most I've done in my career and my lifetime _ever_. I tried to get something out of all the paper work but there were only a few things that stood out.

From the autopsy report: Cause of Death, smoke inhalation. Blunt force trauma to the head: _perimortem_. Debris, I guess? Shit ass reports don't show anything about what caused that. This wasn't Cait, she was in front of me the whole time at that stake out in that fucking run-down building and she never hit her head _once_. Caitlyn's graceful like that, she doesn't bang her head, _ever._

Next up was her gun. The scope is broken, handle a little bent—kinda unnatural but the report said it was because it was lodged under a piece of debris. Net gun attachment was empty when they found it. Her magazine had 4 rounds left in it.

 _Caitlyn always makes sure she had 5 rounds in the gun and 5 in her pocket. Where was the net? Where were the other 6 bullets?_

I kept her gun and rummaged for more stuff to look at. The recordings—the witness interview. I was the only one with the sheriff when she was last seen alive. I remember everything about that day and it still strikes me in a very unnerving way.

I put the tape in and forced myself to watch this comedic fuck-fest.

It took the chief around 15 minutes to get me to talk—I fast forwarded the video to the part when I started to talk to not waste any time of me blankly staring at the ugly piece of shit in front of me. I was too out of it to even comprehend the questions he was throwing at me. I barely had my focus on the guy. He kept asking about who were Cait's nemesis, if anyone was out there to get her, who we were tailing in the back end area of the slums, _why we were tailing this and that_.

I told him everything he needed to know. Cait's nemesis is C, a cat burglar which doesn't give him enough motive to actually try to kill her. Definitely when you're _chief of police_ everyone's going to be fucking out to get you—I used to hate her because she was always ruining my heist. She told me something about a Palmer dude but that's just about as far as I go with his identity. He was just a lead in one of her few open cases.

Then they started to question the building like I fucking owned the damn thing. Telling me about how the building was old and that the gas leaks might've triggered the fire. Most of the time, it felt odd though. Instead of the usual questions, it seemed that they were trying to imply that it happened accidentally.

I saw myself break down near the end of the interview. I wanted to look away and stop the tape but I needed to finish this. Maybe there's something here that I could use.

 _"Vi,"_

 _"The sheriff is not dead. You didn't find her. That's just a fucking piece of corpse."_

 _"What makes you say she isn't dead?"_

 _"Just—"_

 _"Vi, this is going to be a reality but your boss has die—"_

 _"SHE'S NOT DEAD!"_

 _"It's going to be tough dealing with loss but might I suggest therapy?"_

 _"Shut the fuck up."_

 _"Anyway. So this case file's still open. Would you, by any chance, have any updates regarding this? What would the sheriff's next move might've been?"_

 _"You tell me. You're the fucking sheriff now, right? BOSS?"_

 _"Vi. Your smug attitude would get you nowhere. Your boss—she's dead. I need a little more than everything you've told me to get a little closer to getting her justice."_

 _"She can get her own piece of justice because she's alive. And she ain't getting any help from dirt bags like you."_

It looked like I blacked out after that. I didn't answer any more of his retarded questions and I was having none of his bullshit any longer. I remember trying to get myself out of there as quick as possible— _I needed a drink or five at that time._

Then I felt something that tore my focus away from the video. **Pain** , again from my left side. I took a palm full of pills and waited for the pain to go away.

Something isn't right here. How come the evidence hasn't been looked at completely? I've drawn so many questions but then this case has been lazily classified as a fucking fire accident? That fucking corpse was burned until it was _unrecognizable_ and they say it's a _fucking fire accident?_

No. _I can't accept that._ In Cait's words, none of this is logical. Nobody that dies in a fire accident gets burned like they actually were on their way to hell.

I quickly packed up the evidences and sealed everything perfectly—I promised the old lady at the evidence room I'll return everything neat this time.

They didn't do a full search—I doubt they even thought about the evidence—and now they're missing so many pieces of the puzzle. They didn't bother asking other witnesses. For someone as high ranking as Caitlyn they sure did a shit ass job at trying to close this case. This is far beyond lazy.

Well, you know what they say about getting the job done.

I gotta do it myself.


End file.
